Sen. Murphy Exploits Tragedy, Blames Trump as Violence Spirals

Paul Riverbank, 12/15/2025Sen. Chris Murphy’s pointed accusations after the Brown University shooting reignite fierce debate over gun policy, federal funding, and political rhetoric—sharpening divides while families and campuses demand answers amid the fallout from tragedy.

It didn’t take long for politicians to wade in. Senator Chris Murphy—no stranger to the gun debate—chose CNN’s Sunday slot to deliver a punchy salvo. “We’re living through a dizzying campaign to increase violence in this country,” he declared. Murphy traced the turmoil, point-blank, to Donald Trump, painting the former president as someone “restoring gun rights to felons and people who have lost their ability to buy guns.” These weren’t offhand remarks; Murphy doubled down, weaving a tapestry of policy changes, budget cuts, and shifting philosophies in Washington.

One section of his argument focused on the federal grants once created by the Bipartisan Safer Communities Act two years back, funds that helped cities and neighborhoods trial programs meant to slow the churn of gun crime. Now, Murphy alleged, those grant pipes are running dry. He pinned the blame on Trump and his allies, accusing them of “knowingly restoring gun rights to dangerous people.” According to Murphy, the administration’s moves meant less money for anti-violence initiatives, less support for youth programs, and a setback for mental health efforts—areas he insisted enjoyed bipartisan goodwill, at least on paper.

Not surprisingly, that angle didn’t land quietly. When Fox News Digital reached out to the White House, spokeswoman Abigail Jackson unleashed a counter-offensive that swerved away from guns and toward character. “Maybe Senator Murphy should start by looking in the mirror,” she shot back, accusing him and fellow Democrats of language that had “incited violence” themselves. Biting back, Jackson listed incidents where, she said, left-wing rhetoric fueled assaults on federal agents, pointed to the killing of conservative activist Charlie Kirk, and reeled off a familiar list of riot-related violence often associated with progressive protests.

Meanwhile, students at Brown, faculty members, and Providence locals circled around candlelight vigils, quietly wondering if their city’s laws—some of the strictest in New England—did anything to stop the bullets. That was a point seized by Murphy’s critics, like Dana Loesch, who accused him of seizing on tragedy for political gain. More pointedly: If shootings happen even in places with tough restrictions, does piling on more laws really shift the odds?

Still, Murphy clung to a belief that policy matters. On air, he argued that passing stricter firearms laws in 2022 made a dent in mass shootings, if only briefly. “What we know is that stronger [gun] laws do work,” he said, underscoring the often-cited—but rarely unanimous—connection between legislative action and crime rates.

He was, of course, far from alone in the chorus. Every major shooting seems to trigger a now-familiar political choreography: Democrats turn to regulation and prevention; Republicans push back, favoring mental health solutions or shoring up school security. Around and around it goes, with each side convinced not just of its argument, but of the catastrophic consequences should the other prevail.

The debate now, in the shadow of Brown’s tragedy, is really about what happens next—whether grants and laws can blunt the violence before headlines turn and another campus, another city, takes the unwanted spotlight. And all the while, the real, enduring fallout lingers in hospital rooms and family kitchens where people wait for political rhetoric to translate into safer lives—or just, perhaps, quieter mornings.

The Monday morning air at Brown University was meant to be thick with anticipation for finals, not the heavy silence left by gunfire. Over the weekend, violence shattered the routine—two students dead, nine others wounded, and the campus thrust into the unrelenting glare of national attention. Questions from reporters buzzed about the scene as the police circulated only the barest facts, withholding details while families waited for a word, any word.It didn’t take long for politicians to wade in. Senator Chris Murphy—no stranger to the gun debate—chose CNN’s Sunday slot to deliver a punchy salvo. “We’re living through a dizzying campaign to increase violence in this country,” he declared. Murphy traced the turmoil, point-blank, to Donald Trump, painting the former president as someone “restoring gun rights to felons and people who have lost their ability to buy guns.” These weren’t offhand remarks; Murphy doubled down, weaving a tapestry of policy changes, budget cuts, and shifting philosophies in Washington.One section of his argument focused on the federal grants once created by the Bipartisan Safer Communities Act two years back, funds that helped cities and neighborhoods trial programs meant to slow the churn of gun crime. Now, Murphy alleged, those grant pipes are running dry. He pinned the blame on Trump and his allies, accusing them of “knowingly restoring gun rights to dangerous people.” According to Murphy, the administration’s moves meant less money for anti-violence initiatives, less support for youth programs, and a setback for mental health efforts—areas he insisted enjoyed bipartisan goodwill, at least on paper.Not surprisingly, that angle didn’t land quietly. When Fox News Digital reached out to the White House, spokeswoman Abigail Jackson unleashed a counter-offensive that swerved away from guns and toward character. “Maybe Senator Murphy should start by looking in the mirror,” she shot back, accusing him and fellow Democrats of language that had “incited violence” themselves. Biting back, Jackson listed incidents where, she said, left-wing rhetoric fueled assaults on federal agents, pointed to the killing of conservative activist Charlie Kirk, and reeled off a familiar list of riot-related violence often associated with progressive protests.Meanwhile, students at Brown, faculty members, and Providence locals circled around candlelight vigils, quietly wondering if their city’s laws—some of the strictest in New England—did anything to stop the bullets. That was a point seized by Murphy’s critics, like Dana Loesch, who accused him of seizing on tragedy for political gain. More pointedly: If shootings happen even in places with tough restrictions, does piling on more laws really shift the odds?Still, Murphy clung to a belief that policy matters. On air, he argued that passing stricter firearms laws in 2022 made a dent in mass shootings, if only briefly. “What we know is that stronger [gun] laws do work,” he said, underscoring the often-cited—but rarely unanimous—connection between legislative action and crime rates.He was, of course, far from alone in the chorus. Every major shooting seems to trigger a now-familiar political choreography: Democrats turn to regulation and prevention; Republicans push back, favoring mental health solutions or shoring up school security. Around and around it goes, with each side convinced not just of its argument, but of the catastrophic consequences should the other prevail.The debate now, in the shadow of Brown’s tragedy, is really about what happens next—whether grants and laws can blunt the violence before headlines turn and another campus, another city, takes the unwanted spotlight. And all the while, the real, enduring fallout lingers in hospital rooms and family kitchens where people wait for political rhetoric to translate into safer lives—or just, perhaps, quieter mornings.